Pride
by Kyla Baines
Summary: A lonely boy hungers for acceptance and success and eventually finds his way at the Circle of Magi in Ferelden. After a time, he finds that his own gifts are not enough. A man does not become a villain overnight. A dark one-shot from Uldred's POV.


_9:01 Dragon_

The tower rises up in front of me, dark as the wings of the bats that shared the hiding place my parents had set aside for me in the barn. The hiding place I will never need again. The moon dances out from behind the thick cloud cover for a moment, casting the gentle waves of the lake that lap against the side of the rickety boat into an eerie relief.

Why I feel so apprehensive, I cannot say – Kinloch Hold and the templars are certainly the unspoken horrors my parents tried to protect me from, but I doubt this new place will be more of a prison than the one they constructed for me at home. I began showing signs of magic early – my father said I was only three. They packed everything and moved, changing their names when they left and telling no one where they were going. I was rarely allowed outside, and was hastily shoved into the cold and moldy tunnel that led to the barn anytime someone came calling on the family, templar or neighbor. I was never allowed to meet anyone. I didn't exist.

When four men clad in heavy plate armor bearing the heraldry of a sword wreathed in flame approached our small house and tracked me down, I suppose the normal reaction would have been fear. I wasn't afraid, though. In my ten years of life, I had barely seen the sun, and was constantly under the watchful eye of my parents. I am sure they love me – in their own way – but I can't help but resent them for keeping me so isolated and my magic so stamped out. I am destined for more than eternal solitude.

I have felt it there, deep within me, growing and expanding as I have gotten older. It is hot and cold, sharp and soft, always changing and flowing within me, begging for release. Like an anxious hare that is unexpectedly startled from its hiding spot, it has occasionally manifested itself in a suddenly incinerated book that my mother tried to distract me with, or a blast of wind that shattered the glass of the one, small window I was allowed. I want to know how to channel this force – I _crave_ it.

As the small craft lurches to a halt at the base of the tower, my silent captors and guardians leap into action, shouting out orders to one another. One of them grabs me roughly by the arm and I stumble as I step over the edge of the boat, my worn boots and the bottom hem of my pants sinking deep into the wet sand, saturating the material and sending a shock of cold through me. As I look up again at the building that thrusts high into the sky, rain begins to fall. I stumble as I am pulled forward, both of my hands bound behind my back and feeling strangely… empty.

Emptiness. That must be it: the reason for my apprehension. I cannot feel that swirling eddy of power within me. I begin to panic as the massive stone doors swing wide without a sound, but rearrange my face into calm nothingness, unwilling to let these men see the hint of fear that has crept into me.

We walk into the massive foyer of the building, the water that drips from the templars' armor making dull, spattering sounds as they hit the stone floor. One of my escorts motions to his comrade that guards an inner door, and it is opened in time for us to continue the forced march without breaking step. We continue walking counterclockwise through the wide, outer hallway, and I catch glimpses of the occasional face peeking out from behind a partially shut door. I am being herded along so quickly, though, that I can't make out any details. After several staircases, and more walking in what seems like endless circles, we halt before a wooden door. One of the templars raps smartly on its surface with his gauntleted hand, and there is a muted response from within.

"Knight Commander, First Enchanter." The deep voice of one of my captors is muffled from behind his helmet as he acknowledges the two figures standing in the room – one is dressed in the armor of the Templar Order with only his helmet removed, while the other is in a long robe of rich blue and red. "Here is the boy we sent word of."

"Dismissed." The man that had been addressed as the Knight Commander speaks quietly, but his tone clearly brooks no room for argument. The templars that had found me – _his _men – bow their heads and sweep out of the room, armor clanking softly in the high-ceilinged room.

"You, boy." His voice is sharper this time, and I restrain myself from jumping. "Your name?"

I take a deep breath to steady my voice, but the dark-haired man in robes speaks before I can. "Oh, calm yourself, Commander. There's no need for such manners."

I stare openly at how blasé this man seems, and shut my gaping mouth as he turns to me. "I am the newly instated First Enchanter here at the Circle of Magi in Ferelden, lad. You are welcome here, and we look forward to working with you to hone and control your abilities. Now, if you wouldn't mind answering the young Knight Commander's earlier question…?"

My mind races. It can't possibly be that bad here if I will actually be _encouraged_ to learn how to control the energy that has just started to build within me again. Remembering that I still need to respond, I meet his kind, grey eyes and speak with confidence.

"Uldred, ser. My name is Uldred."

* * *

_9:08 Dragon_

As I sit in a dark corner of the library, I am able to glimpse through a break in the shelves and watch the elemental class for the youngest apprentices. It reminds me of my first classes here at the Circle, and how I watched with open-mouthed astonishment as our instructor held a ball of orange flame in the palm of one hand, and a crackling mass of writhing blue electricity in the other. She had captivated my classmates and me as these spheres of energy shot upward, twirling and dancing just out of reach of one another, and wove into an intricate tapestry of elemental force above our heads. I had been transfixed by the sight, eager to start throwing my own spells around with such ease and surety.

I return to the present, smiling slightly at the looks of astonishment I remember so well on these children's faces. It hadn't taken me long to begin to master the spells that the older enchanters had taught us, and I took great pride in my own abilities as they grew, knowing that my own abilities already rivaled many of the full mages'.

Walking out from behind the shelves that hid me from view, I lean casually against a pillar to watch the lesson. The instructor, an older senior enchanter named Lia, glanced up as I came into view.

"And if you study hard, all of you will someday be able to do as well as Apprentice Uldred has!"

About twenty small heads turn to look at me, and I smile at them.

"Would you be willing to do today's demonstration on ice spells?" Enchanter Lia's request was one I was hoping she would make.

"Of course," I reply simply.

I pull into the energy that has become just another part of me, concentrating my mind on manipulating the moisture in the air and bending it to my will. I have a flair for the dramatic, and the ice crystals begin to rapidly assemble together. Soon, I have created a scene of winter delight above the heads of the awestruck children. They gasp and point as the larger-than-life snowflakes twinkle in the dull torchlight of the library, their many facets reflecting multicolored flecks of light on the floor around them. Light, fluffy snow whirls in spiraled patterns around the flakes, and stray gusts fall to the ground and into the small hands that are outstretched to meet them.

The adoration in these innocent eyes adds fuel to the burning desire for success that I have. It has been burning through me with greater and greater force as I draw ever nearer to becoming a full mage. My smile fades as I walk away and return to my secluded corner. I feel that something is still missing. Though I master spells with ease and soak up knowledge faster than any of my peers, I don't know if this is enough for me. Perhaps this emptiness will be filled when I pass my Harrowing.

* * *

_9:09 Dragon_

As I stand here on the ever-shifting ground, and glance at the landscape that seems to be in constant flux, as though I'm looking through a glass of murky water, I don't feel any semblance of the trepidation that is supposed to go along with this experience. My Harrowing is finally here.

I run down the path, light-headed with the success that I know I will have. I have found out that I am to be tested by a demon. Bah! Is this really all there is to it? I'm almost surprised that _anyone_ fails their Harrowing if it is this easy for everyone. After what seems like an eternity, though I know it has likely only been seconds in the Chamber where Irving and the templars stand watch, I finally come to a large, open clearing that seems out of place in this realm of dreams. This is it.

I stride forward with confidence, and do not falter when I am met by the figure of my father. I know it isn't him. This poor excuse for his doppelganger is far too happy to see me, and more animated than the real one ever was. When I am only a few strides away, I pause and fold my arms, waiting for the creature to speak.

"My son, I am so proud of you –"

Its voice is laced with the emotion that it claims, but I am not fooled. My father was embarrassed of me! I laugh at it.

"Let's not waste idle time, demon. I know what you are. Say what you will and have done with it." I have grown bored with this interchange already, though it has barely begun. My mind is already back in the Tower, accepting praise and new robes from the First Enchanter, and casting superior looks towards all of my younger acquaintances.

The air shimmers in front of me as my father's form falls away to reveal a hulking creature in his place. This beast stands over three times taller than me, and fractured purple light dances across its horned, midnight-black skin. A Pride Demon. My lip quirks up as I think of the irony of the situation – it has always been taught to us that the different classes of demons are attracted to us depending on what our greatest weakness might be. That _pride_ is one of my weaknesses might be plausible, though I tend to think of it as confidence – a strength and not a failing – rather than pride. Oh well, it should make this experience that much easier.

I repress a yawn as the creature begins to speak, its layered voice attempting to draw me in and ensnare me. It goes on and on, and I'm about to give up and attack out of sheer boredom when it says something unexpected.

"Uldred, you know as well as any that you are destined for greatness." A massive clawed hand points directly at me with these words.

"Yes, demon, I do know that. Now, I believe our conversation is over –"

"Even you do not know, however, exactly how impressive you _could _be. You are but a larval form of something much, much greater. Mages are not meant to work alone toward making their mark in history…"

I am momentarily shocked into silence, and it takes more of an effort than I thought to push those words aside and bring down a storm of fire around the demon. As I watch the columns of flame dance around it, and sizzle with sickening popping sounds as they contact its fetid skin, dark eyes that are blacker than the deepest void turn to meet mine. I wait before sending another spell to see if it will speak once more – strangely _wanting_ it to tell me something else – but it is too late. I feel a nauseating lurch as brown, black, and red swirl around me, and I am suddenly sprawled out on the cold floor of the Harrowing Chamber once more.

Grey eyes regard me, and the voice of the First Enchanter seems to come from a great distance. "A record time, Mage Uldred."

The words wash over me, and I feel less satisfaction from hearing them than I thought I would.

* * *

_9:17 Dragon_

I have been scouring the books of the library for years, and am beginning to think it is all in vain. The words of the demon haunt me every day. I know I was right to destroy it, but I wish I knew if what it said was true – could I really become something far greater than I already am? I don't see how, anymore… I am already one of the most successful Enchanters in the Circle, and am predicted to be promoted to Senior Enchanter at some point. This is of no surprise to me. I know I have more raw talent than most mages ever will. I do not understand, though, why I _still_ feel this empty void inside of me.

It is always there, waiting to be filled. But with what? I shove another huge tome that I've already read twice back on the shelf. I feel that the considerable skill I have is only half of a larger whole. I am beginning to believe that the Circle keeps knowledge hidden from us, jealously guarding some secret that is only available to those highest up in the ranks. I have expressed my concerns to no one – this kind of thinking is certainly frowned upon. Surely, though, such knowledge _must_ exist, and some here _must_ know how to apply it.

As I begin to walk back to my quarters, I hear hushed voices in the far corner of the library. I walk quietly closer to hear what is being said, and almost drop my books in excitement as I make out pieces of the conversation.

"—don't know _why_ the information is forbidden—"

"—the practice of it is, of course—"

"—even then, I don't know that it actually _should_ be frowned upon—"

"—not as if the mage is actually possessed by a demon when they practice blood ma—"

"Shh! Not so loud, you fool!"

I walk out of the library quickly, burning with excitement. Could this be it? The missing piece of the puzzle? I quickly run through what little I know of blood magic, and my knowledge is sorely lacking. I happen to agree with the two that were in the library – blood magic isn't the same as being possessed by a demon, it is simply augmenting one's own internal strength with help from the Fade. If anything, it's a demon being used by the _mage_.

I feel as though I am on fire with anticipation as I drop off my books in my room. I hasten upstairs to the First Enchanter's office, and am just about to knock when I pause. I know very well what Irving thinks of blood magic – he is excessively traditional in his views, unlike myself and the Libertarian Fraternity to which I belong. Even idle curiosity on the subject could lead to suspicion. No, it is better to pursue this particular field of research on my own.

* * *

_9:19 Dragon_

This has almost been too easy. But then again, things have always been easy for me. I must learn to be careful with this newfound power, though – it is as heady as a strong wine in the middle of summer. I do not wish to be the cause for any suspicions, silly as they might be. If only the Circle realized what we mages truly could be.

At long last, I feel that I am on the path towards completion.

* * *

_9:26 Dragon_

My recent promotion to Senior Enchanter pales in importance when compared to the raw power that rushes through me. Irving, in all his naiveté, promoted me because I have such an uncanny knack for finding out which apprentices have tendencies towards blood magic. Hah! If he only knew.

Oh, there are certainly a handful of apprentices I _know_ have those proclivities, but still allow to take their Harrowing. They are the ones who deserve to know the truth and embrace it later on. They are the ones with enough potential to become as I am. It is the weak, unsure, and simpering that I manipulate like clay and hand over to the templars. It is better that they forego all magic, than attempt to harness something they could not handle and do not deserve.

My protégées, though, are something else to behold entirely. They, too, have learned to keep away from the suspicious and ever-watching eyes of the First Enchanter and Knight Commander, all while carefully developing their newly-found gift. They look to me as their leader – their god. And why not? Was it not _I_ who introduced them to the other side of magic that so many ignorantly frown upon, and instead welcomed them with open arms?

The young apprentices I watch carefully, always cultivating and tilling these young minds, waiting for the same fevered thirst for knowledge that I had. There are always one or two in each class who have that glint in their eye, the hunger for power and success I myself had at their age. It is those ones who take in my every move, and watch as I cast far more complicated spells than necessary to produce the necessary reaction I look so closely for. Spells I would never have been able to cast were it not for this great blessing I found and took for my own.

I have taken to carrying the smallest blade possible with me. I am strong enough that only the tiniest prick to the inside crook of my elbow produces enormous results. I breathe deeply as I remember the lesson on fire I gave the children this morning.

Under the concealing folds of my robes, I made a small cut, barely feeling the steel break my skin. The now-familiar rush of supplemental energy spewed forth with only a few drops of my own blood, trickling down my skin in scalding beads. I struggled to keep my breathing even as I conjured up the most fantastic display I could think of through the high my power caused. As beasts of all shapes and sizes formed out of the flames – wolves, bears, spiders, dogs, rabbits, and birds – I watched the young faces gaze at the display of power I had put forth. This sight was something none of the other Enchanters could achieve, and I held my audience captive with the show. I pulled further from the Fade, and caused the flamed animals to change colors, hearing the gasps of astonishment from the children. My eyes scanned the crowd hungrily. Yes. The older apprentice that has been placed under my care to help out with these youngsters has so much potential – that raw, pained look of longing – Kira Amell could go far.

I return to the present, and continue on to the empty classroom that I will be meeting some of my students in. Gravid and Boson will be essential to my plans for the future. Irving is getting old, and his ideas along with him.

It is nearly time to usher the mages of Ferelden into a new era.

* * *

_9:30 Dragon_

My power is greater than ever, and there is now nobody who could possibly stand in my way. The Tower and its archaic ideals have fallen along with those too weak to see the wonders of the gift I have to offer. I barely hear the door slam open as I watch my newest ally rise to its feet – the final and greatest form a mage could ever hope for.

"It's over, Uldred!"

I sigh as I turn to see the impassioned young woman, curly red hair wild and loose, standing before me, along with Wynne and two others I do not recognize. I try to reason with her, telling Kira that she could be as great as I am. Her mind has been warped, and she will not see reason.

It is such a waste of talent, but there is no way around it. She must die, along with the others.

I feel no pain as I draw my steel blade across my palm, only a rush of power. It is a larger cut than necessary – I am more than able to defeat these nuisances – but I feel like making a statement, here on my greatest day of triumph. The power from the Fade augments my own, and I feel a roar rip from my throat as I transform into the greatest form I have ever known.

The Pride Demon has come to assist me. I now understand that it always _did_ want to help, and I embrace it as a friend. I rush forward to battle, my mind already focused on what will come after.

But something is wrong.

My followers begin to fall.

A flash of red hair.

A shock of… pain?

I am falling to the ground, and hear a deep, guttural voice in the back of my head. The same voice that gave me inspiration those many years ago in my Harrowing. For the first time in years, I am afraid.

_You were wrong, mortal. You were always wrong. Now, you are mine for eternity._


End file.
